Blackfeather Woods the more i feel, the more i feel

i was hoping @Damien ?!

It had been weeks since his return to Blackfeather Woods, and yet Cicero had not yet sought out his brother. His brother had not sought out him, either, which made it easier for Cicero to hide away. It pained him that Damien had not come to look for him, for his own reasons were only fueled by his affection for Damien. He did not want Damien to see him this way, for though the wounds on his body were healing now, Cicero still felt naked, as though the wounds betrayed what had happened to him. As though Damien would know by laying eyes upon him that his brother had been unfaithful. And, what drove Cicero's fear perhaps even more than that, that Damien would not care, and would only be confirmed in his belief that two brothers could not feel the deep love that Cicero knew that they did. It was a ridiculous thought process, of course, and Cicero knew that, for he had analysed it deeply. There was no way that Damien would know by clasping eyes upon his brother's wounds that it was his virginity that had been taken, rather than a couple of scraps of hair and flesh.

Yet it was the depth of his shame that kept Cicero away from Damien for the moment. He was not purposefully hiding, for he had been around Burke and Kendra and Pietro too, but neither did he look Damien up. Cicero longed to be near him, to press his nose against Damien's fur, to nip at his ears and to sleep alongside someone who would protect him if need be, so that he did not need to be so afraid. But the truth was that where Cicero had always been bold and certain of what he and Damien were and where their journeys were meant to go — together — the encounter with the white wolf had somehow mashed that confidence to bits. The only thing that he could hope was that Damien's journey and time away from Cicero had made him realise how deep his love for his brother ran, had made him realise what Cicero knew all along. Lost in thoughts, Cicero trudged through the territory, considering his next, shorter outriding trip.

Damien hadn't been hiding either, but if he was asked he would probably say that he did not feel ready to see his brother again yet. It pained him to not be able to see him every day, to laugh about something stupid or just philosophize whole nights under the stars. But he had been thinking, a lot, and with Burke's help he had realized something he did not think possible.

Damien's head was rested at the entrance of his den. The trees cast a shadow directly over it and there was actually little light filtering the thick canopy. Damien was nearly invisible. But Cicero was not, not today. He trailed aimlessly around the forest, and happened to cross Damien's entrance without knowing it. Damien's heart stopped for a second, and his mouth went dry. But he had to do it, it was way overdue.

"Brother!" he called suddenly and jumped out of the den to catch up with him.

As Cicero moved through the territories, he heard the rustle of movement before he knew who was near. An ear turned to the side and his head followed as he heard Damien's voice. Cicero found it hard to tell whether Damien was glad to see Cicero or not, but he had initiated the contact where he could have just stayed away, so it had to be positive. He realised as Damien called his name just how much he had missed being by his brother's side in their time apart.

The only thing Cicero could hope for was that Damien had also come to realise the inevitable truth in their time apart. His wounds were healing well, although they were still visible enough, particularly because of his thin hair. The shame of what had happened with the white wolf flooded him momentarily, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of relief and love that he felt at seeing his brother again. "Brother... " he spoke softly, and he took a careful step towards Damien while trying to gauge his brother's mood.

His initial expression might not have said much, but Damien was nearly dying in nervousness inside. He longed to be beside his brother all the time he spent away, and every second after he returned to find out that Cicero was not around felt endless until this moment. But Damien couldn't avoid noticing the wounds on Cicero's muzzle, and they pained him.

"Who did this to you, brother?" asked Damien taken aback as he took the last few steps towards Cicero. Damien wasn't new to wounds, and these were clearly claw and bite marks. Those were unusual for Cicero, and it worried Damien. He didn't know many things, almost everything was kept a secret under Blackfeather Woods' darkness, so the reason for Cicero's scouting mission was unknown to Damien. "Where were you?" he dared to ask. Perhaps it wouldn't be a problem to reveal that information, and it would certainly make Damien feel better. He was protective over his brother like he was over no one else.

The distance between them was closed, but not closed as far as Cicero would have liked. He had missed Damien more than anything else in his absence from the Woods — in both their absences from the Woods. Cicero longed to lay his snout along Damien's neck and nuzzle the soft fur behind his brother's ear. Longed to fall asleep beside his brother and finally rest easily again, he hoped, with no nightmares of the dark beast that slumbered inside.

Upon Damien's question, Cicero thought darkly, Sheogorath. Of course, he would not say this, for Damien would instantly know that something was amiss if Cicero used a reference to himself to signify the problems. Some secrets were better kept, and Cicero preferred for no one to know of his second identity, the involuntary beast that at times reared its ugly head. Neither did he want Damien to know about his encounter with the white wolf, for shame befell him when he but thought of it. It should have been Damien instead.

"Cicero did not see his face," he said, which was the unfortunate truth. Sheogorath may have seen the wolf and might know of him, but Cicero had not seen anything of him but his behind as he walked away after casting Cicero (or Sheogorath, perhaps, if the two had ever even exchanged names) aside like a worn out rag. As for Damien's second question, he easily answered that one, for he knew what Sheogorath had attempted. "Cicero tried to gather Kove's daughters, but the one he found was too stubborn to follow him to Blackfeather." She had come or would come eventually, he knew, for she had said she was looking for the Woods, but had not wished for his aide in finding it. It did not matter much, and this was information that Damien could know.

Cicero longed to reach out and touch his brother, but he witheld from the physical contact. He had not touched anyone much at all since his return — since the white wolf — and this was the first time that he longed for it. But at the same time he feared it, still feeling touchy after what'd happened. Cicero did not want to roll into casual conversation, truthfully; he wanted to be close to Damien, lay with Damien, but where he had always been brazen and confident in his actions before, convinced of their true love, Cicero now found himself tip-toeing about, disgusted with what he had done, and disgusted with his fear for the touch he so craved.

Their conversation remained ever short, for soon Damien was off once more, leaving his brother hankering for his presence once again, left hanging, uncertain, the beast broiling inside and longing for the culmination of their love. Yet he would need to wait a bit longer and so he was left alone with nothing but his thoughts again.